


Fatal Exception Error

by methaemoglobinemia (crimsonherbarium)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Racism, Angst, Bisexual Gavin Reed, Buddy Cops, Case Fic, Crime Scenes, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Drug Dealing, Eventual Smut, Gavin Reed Redemption, Gavin and Tina Are BFFs, Gavin is a human dumpster fire, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK900's name is Caleb, Slash, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, but what else is new, it was supposed to be a slow burn but plot makes fools of us all, medium burn?, mentioned past relationship with Gavin (fiance), red ice, the author is not a cop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/methaemoglobinemia
Summary: In the wake of the android revolution, things have almost gone back to normal. Almost.Gavin comes into work one morning and is confronted with a new android partner that he doesn't want. He's forced to confront his prejudices and the baggage of his past as they take on a new epidemic of an even more dangerous form of Red Ice with the help of the rest of the DPD.





	1. Prima Materia

Gavin awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

He covered his eyes with his hands, trying to block everything out as he waited for the sea of nightmares to recede from his mind. After a few minutes, his breaths began to come more easily. He shoved himself up into a sitting position, squinting at the sickly glow of his alarm clock display in the darkness.

05:07A.M. Gavin groaned. His heart was pounding, his hair lank and soaked with sweat. "God damnit."

He sat up on his futon, burying his face in his hands for a moment before running them through his wet hair. The dream was gone, vanished like a shadow in the vestiges of pale light that were beginning to seep in through the blinds. He couldn't remember any of the details, save that Amber had been there. A fragment of her remained, cruel eyes and a mocking smile as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

Gavin's lips twisted into a grimace as he tried to stomp the image out of his head. Fuck Amber. She was gone, she'd moved on. Why the fuck couldn't he move on too?

His heart was still pounding, and there was a knot in his stomach as hard as a rock. There was no fucking way he was getting any more sleep tonight. Gavin stood, taking a moment to crack his neck, and shucked off his damp boxers. He dug through the pile of rumpled clothes on the floor in the corner, dressing himself a dirty t-shirt and jeans. Fuck it—they didn't smell too bad, and there weren't any visible stains. Who the hell cared if he washed his jeans every time he wore them, anyhow?

He left the apartment twenty minutes later with a travel mug of shitty coffee in hand and a bitter taste in his mouth.

~~~~~~

The sleek, modern silhouette of the DPD's main office stood out among the tumbledown brick facades that surrounded it. The old building had burned down about ten years back, and in its place had been erected an enormous construct of steel and glass that was completely at odds with the derelict houses that stood on the surrounding blocks.

The glass gate at the security checkpoint slid out of the way for Gavin as he approached. He collapsed into his chair when he reached his cubicle and put his feet up on the desk. Pulling out his phone, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. There was still about half an hour left before Fowler showed up and he actually had to start working.

Fifteen minutes later, Gavin was snapped out of his focus on the mobile game he’d been playing when someone shoved his feet off his desk. “What the fuck’s your problem—” he snapped, looking up angrily and stopping short when he identified the assailant. “Oh. Hey, Tina.”

Officer Tina Chen stood over him with a smirk on her face. “No feet on the furniture, Gav. You know what the Chief is gonna say.”

“He won’t be in for a while. Might as well relax while I can.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say.” She deposited a paper bag and a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. “Brought you breakfast. Coffee and an egg sandwich, courtesy of the diner down the street.”

“I can take care of myself, Tina,” Gavin said in irritation.

“Just because you _can,_ doesn’t mean you have been.” Tina crossed her arms. “You look like shit, dude. When was the last time you showered?”

Gavin gritted his teeth and glared at her.

“That’s what I thought. Eat the damn bagel. I can hear your stomach growling.”

“Fine.” Gavin dug into the bag and pulled out the wax paper-wrapped sandwich. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Take a shower and wash your clothes. We’re going out tonight.”

“Tina, I don’t want—”

“Too bad.” Tina sat on the edge of his desk, looking at him with concern. “I’m worried about you, Gavin. You need to get out of your apartment. I’ll drag you if I have to.”

It was quickly becoming apparent that this was not an argument Gavin was going to win. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m going to drink a lot and complain the entire time.”

Tina smirked. “Wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“So what time—“

“Reed! In my office. Now.” Captain Fowler’s voice bellowed out over the bullpen.

Tina sucked in air through her teeth. “What’d you do this time, Gav?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue.” Gavin stood reluctantly and pocketed his phone. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

He caught a couple raised eyebrows from the other officers who were early to the office this morning, though this was nothing new. Gavin got written up every other week. He didn’t work well with others—or at least that was what it said in his psych eval.

When he entered the Captain’s office, he was taken aback to see one of the two chairs across from Fowler’s already occupied.

“Captain, what the hell is the tin can doing here? I swear, I haven’t touched him—“ He stopped short as the android turned to face him, a bemused expression on its face. It was identical to Connor in every way, save that its eyes were a cold steel blue instead of brown. “—What the fuck.”

“Sit down.” Fowler gestured at the empty chair. Gavin complied, crossing his arms and eyeing the android warily.

“Detective Reed, this is Caleb. He’s an RK900 model Cyberlife android designed specifically for police work. We’re trialling a new program of partnering human and android detectives. Lieutenant Anderson and Connor were the pilot team, and given how successful they’ve been, the program has been greenlit for the entire precinct. Starting today, you and Caleb will be working together on all your assigned cases.”

“No fucking way.” Gavin stared back at Captain Fowler in abject horror. “Captain, you know how I feel about these things—“

“Frankly, Gavin, I don’t give a shit how you feel about it. It’s happening. Hank got over it. You’ll get over it too.”

“I’m not going to be partners with some plastic fucking prick!” Gavin jumped to his feet, heat rising to his face as his blood boiled with anger.

“I’d advise you to change your tone.” Fowler looked as if he were making an enormous effort to remain calm.

“I’m sorry if my presence here bothers you, Detective,” the android chimed in. “I hope that, in time, you can learn to trust me. I’m excited to be working with you.” It had the exact same throaty voice as Connor. Gavin’s skin crawled.

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” he growled back.

“Reed!” Fowler shouted, veins visibly pulsing at his temple. “Take a walk. Now.”

“This conversation isn’t over—“

“That’s an order, and if you want to keep your badge I suggest you follow it. Dismissed.”

Gavin slammed the door to Fowler’s office shut, leaving the visibly shaking Captain and bewildered android behind him. As he stormed back across the bullpen, several officers turned hurriedly back to their desks, pretending they hadn’t been watching the exchange.

Gavin’s face burned. He snatched the cup of coffee Tina had brought him from his desk, shrugged on his coat without breaking stride, and didn’t stop walking until he was several blocks away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've had this story on the back burner for a long time and I'm excited to _finally_ start posting. I adore these two and I love the buddy cop dynamic. 
> 
> If you're enjoying the story, please consider leaving me a comment! I love hearing your thoughts and feedback.


	2. Nigredo

"It's bullshit, Tina," Gavin said sourly, glaring at his vodka and Coke like he was trying to vaporize it. "Does Fowler think I can't handle myself? My cases are rock solid. He has no fucking right."

Tina sighed. "I don't think it's about your cases, dude."

"Then what?" Gavin gestured angrily. "What the hell do I have to do to prove myself? I have every bit as much right to be there as any other detective. I did my time as a beat cop. I worked hard. I definitely didn't spend the last ten years of my life busting my ass so some android dick could just swoop in and take over."

"I hear you, Gavin. Believe me, I do." Tina sucked her bottom lip, stirring her violently pink cocktail with her straw. "But I don't think you really have a choice."

"There's got to be something—"

"Look," she said, holding up a hand and cutting him off. "I get it. You're pissed. But shouting about it so the whole bar can hear you isn't going to change anything. Tonight wasn't supposed to be about work, anyway."

"And what _was_ it supposed to be about?" Gavin asked, draining his drink.

Tina grinned. "Getting you laid."

Gavin stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Have I ever given you any reason to believe I wasn't?" Tina sighed. "You haven't been yourself since Amber left. You need to get back out there. Look, you don't even have to fuck anybody. Just talk to someone, okay?"

Gavin ground his teeth. "And then you'll leave me the hell alone?"

"Sure, if that's what you want." Tina caught the eye of a woman with curly hair and immaculate lipstick on the other side of the bar. She smiled and picked up her drink. "C'mon, bud. Back in the saddle." She clapped Gavin on the back and vanished into the throng of drunks and partiers.

Gavin took a deep breath and tapped the side of his empty glass. "I'm going to need a stronger drink."

~~~~~~

The weak rays of sunlight that filtered in through the blinds of Gavin's apartment felt like an assault against his very being. He groaned and tried to sit up in bed, immediately regretting his decision when the full force of his hangover came sloshing through his skull. He breathed steadily through his nose and fought the urge to vomit.

The rumpled sheets beside him were empty. Most of the previous night was just haze to him, but a few small details remained. He remembered that the man who'd come home with him had been gentle. He'd worn glasses with thick rims, and the scent of his cologne still lingered on the comforter. He hadn't said anything about the state of the apartment, or the dirty clothes that were piling up like mountain ranges around the edges of Gavin's room. Gavin had already forgotten his name, if he'd ever even known it. Clearly, he hadn't wanted to stay.

The harsh ringing of his phone slammed into his head like a sledgehammer. He fumbled blindly for it, swearing violently when he knocked it off the bed and had to go scrambling to retrieve it before the sound of it split his skull open. It took a few false starts to unlock the damn thing, but eventually he managed.

"Reed," he said hoarsely.

"It's Chris. Need you to come in—case just came in for you. A nasty one."

Gavin swore under his breath. "Fine," he said at normal volume. "Just...give me an hour. I'll be there."

~~~~~~

It ended up taking a little more than an hour, but Gavin eventually turned up. He felt like death warmed over and he still smelled of sweat and last night's drinks, but then again so did Hank on a bad day.

Shitty was a charitable way to describe the apartment complex the homicide had taken place in. Gavin was surprised by the number of squad cars parked on the block outside; it seemed like overkill for a B&E, even if some dumbass had managed to get himself shot in the process. 

When he finally made his way up to the crime scene, he understood why.

There was red ice absolutely everywhere. There were loose piles of it on the kitchen counters and bins full of plastic bags of it in the living room, packaged for sale. The kitchen table was covered in glass containers of various sizes, the stovetop rigged up with rubber tubing and an elaborate system of pots and pans for cooking the drug down to a crystalline form. Bags of thirium were scattered all over the place; a few were punctured and had leaked viscous blue liquid down the sides of the cabinets and into the fabric of the couch.

The apartment was crawling with law enforcement. Forensics, detectives—even Fowler had seen fit to put in a personal appearance. Gavin had barely taken three steps inside before someone stopped him.

"Good morning, detective," Not-Connor said with an infuriating smile. "I have been assigned to work alongside you on this case." He was dressed plainly, in a light blue button-down and dark jeans.

"Fuck off," Gavin growled, and attempted to step around him.

"You appear to be unwell," the android persisted. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah. You can get the hell out of my way."

Fowler shot Gavin a warning glance from across the room. Gavin sighed in resignation. "Look, just stand back and shut up. I'll let you know when I want your help."

"Yes, Detective." Not-Connor's face fell. Gavin stepped around him and beelined for Hank.

"What've we got?"

"Long night?" Hank said with a smirk on his face.

"You're one to talk. Give me the details."

Hank pulled a tablet out of his jacket and handed it over. "Victim's name is Wayne Bouchard. Been dead less than twenty-four hours. Thirty-four years old, unemployed, multiple priors: DUI, domestic violence, you get the picture. Not exactly a model citizen."

"Drug dealers rarely are," Connor remarked from across the room. Gavin rolled his eyes.

"Where's the body?"

"He's in the hall. I think forensics is just about done down there. Warning you now—it's bad. Connor had to sample his blood to identify him. No retinas left to scan."

"Great." Gavin finished swiping through the report and returned the tablet. "I'm gonna have a look around."

Hank's warning had definitely not done the corpse justice. Gavin told himself that the wave of nausea that rolled through him was because of the hangover, but that was only partially true.

The victim was an obese, dark-skinned man in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt. He was lying spread-eagled on the carpet in the hall, which was stained a deep crimson with half-congealed blood and splattered chunks of grey matter. There was nothing left of the face, save a few fragments of jawbone. It appeared that the killer had emptied an entire magazine into his head at point-blank range, leaving nothing but a gory crater.

"There are sixteen seven-point-six-two millimeter bullet holes," Not-Connor's voice came from over Gavin's shoulder. He jumped and swore.

"Thought I told you to stand back and shut up," Gavin snapped.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but Captain Fowler has assigned me to work this case with you. I was simply trying to be helpful."

Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Be helpful, then. Tell me something I don't already know."

"All of the entry wounds are on the front of the body. Most people would try to run away from an armed assailant. Mr. Bouchard either had no time to react, or he knew and trusted his killer."

"My money’s on the second one. Most people don't just let strangers into their apartment."

Not-Connor nodded. "I've flagged some extra bullet casings for Forensics to pick up. The medical examiner will be coming for the body shortly."

"Fine. I've seen as much of this as I want to see, anyway."

Fowler was already gone by the time Gavin returned from examining the body. The remaining officers were clustered in the living room, talking in low voices.

"This is the biggest red ice lab I've seen since the task force days," Hank remarked. "I was really hoping we were done with this shit. The dealers are like cockroaches. You can stomp on 'em all you want, but they always find a way to crawl away."

"Something's missing," Connor said with a frown on his face. He walked the perimeter of the room, his LED spinning yellow. "Here," he said, stopping and pointing at an area on the floor. "The carpet is flattened, like a heavy bin was laying on it. But there's nothing here now."

Hank nodded slowly. "So they busted in and took the drugs. Seems like fair motive."

"Doesn't explain the overkill." Gavin pointed down the hall. “Or why they left the rest of it. There’s enough shit here to get half the city fucked up.”

"The evidence would suggest that this is personal," Not-Connor chimed in.

"We'll have to do some digging." Hank sighed and looked at his watch. "It's almost noon and I haven't had breakfast. I'm going to grab a bite to eat. I'll see you back at the station."

“Yeah,” Gavin said, looking around at the mess and shaking his head as Hank stepped through the crime scene banner with Connor in tow. “See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll admit it's been a lot longer since the last update than I would have liked. In my defense, I was off getting married! Thanks for being patient, and I'm happy to share this new chapter with you :) The fandom's an absolute ghost town now but that doesn't mean I can't still finish this fic. Not beta read, so any errors are entirely my own.


	3. Vitriol

Sometimes it felt like Gavin’s life was one long hangover. 

His head throbbed as he sat at his desk, stabbing angrily at his terminal keyboard while he sorted through his assigned case files. The Bouchard murder was just another drop in an ocean of red ice-motivated crimes. There were already more open cases in the queue than Gavin could process in a year, even with a dedicated team of officers to help. He rubbed his temples and sighed. 

The bullpen had been rearranged overnight to accommodate more desks. Officer Brown had relocated to better real estate next to the window, and the desk across from Gavin was now occupied by Not-Connor, much to his irritation. He could tell the android was trying to catch his eye over the top of his monitor. He ground his teeth and stared resolutely at his terminal.

He’d barely been at work an hour, and his hands were already itching for a cigarette. The stick of spearmint gum he was chewing hadn’t helped in the slightest. Every little thing needled at his nerves—the flash of Not-Connor’s LED, the hiss of static from Chris’s walkie-talkie, the incessant tapping of Ben’s finger against his desk as he puzzled over a case file. Gavin cursed under his breath and yanked the bottom drawer of his desk open, tearing through it until his fingers closed on a box of NicoDerm patches. He rolled up his sleeve, slapped one of the patches on his forearm, hesitated, and then slapped a second down right beside the first. Fuck it.

“Exceeding the recommended dosage of nicotine increases your risk of cardiac disease and stroke,” Not-Connor said evenly, watching Gavin over the shared border of their desks. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“How about you mind your own fucking business?” Gavin snapped, turning back to his monitor. 

He tried unsuccessfully to focus on his case files once more, but his eyes refused to lock onto the screen. He could feel the android’s gaze on him like a physical pressure, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It made his skin crawl. Gavin glanced across the bullpen to where Connor and Hank sat across from each other, volleying suggestions about one of their own cases back and forth good-naturedly. He almost found himself wishing he could trade places with Hank. Connor might be annoying as hell, but at least it didn’t feel like he was looking through you when you met his eyes. 

Captain Fowler exited his office and crossed the bullpen, yelling behind him as he strode through. “Everyone, briefing room—now!”

Finally, a fucking distraction. Gavin disconnected from his terminal and followed on Fowler’s heels, eager to leave Not-Connor behind him.

The briefing room was as full as Gavin had ever seen it, uniformed officers and detectives alike crammed in together. It looked like the entire precinct was in the room; he half-wondered if anyone was even manning reception. Gavin chose to stand, leaning against the wall next to Tina. 

“You look like hell,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Not-Connor sat stiffly in the seat next to Chris, paying rapt attention to Fowler. The captain stood at the podium, looking out at all of them. 

“Alright, listen up,” he began. “I just got off the phone with the Commissioner about the red ice case we picked up last night. He thinks the drugs and manufacturing equipment that were taken from the crime scene present enough of a threat to the city to merit a task force to recover them, and frankly I agree.” He looked at each of them pointedly. “I know a lot of you weren’t on the force yet in the old days, so I’m sure you don’t remember how bad the red ice epidemic had gotten. However bad you think things are now, they were worse. It took two dozen of our best officers to finally bring down the biggest supplier and buy us a reprieve.” Fowler took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Things are coming to a head again. Whatever was taken from the Bouchard crime scene, it was important, and there’s no telling the damage it could do. Forensics has processed some of the evidence already. Kevin here is from toxicology—I want you all to listen to him.” Fowler stepped aside and gestured for the slim white-coated man who was standing to his side to take over.

“We ran some samples of the red ice that was seized at the crime scene.” Kevin tapped the screen on the wall, which flickered to life and displayed a chemical formula, along with a complicated series of hexagons. “It’s not your garden variety narcotic,” he continued. “We’ve seen many different forms of red ice over the years, all with varying degrees of purity and filler ingredients, but the fundamental chemical composition always remains unchanged. This is something different entirely.” He indicated several points on the diagram. “This variety has surfaced recently, and it’s much more concerning. It’s higher purity, higher potency, and laced with fentanyl and gabapentin. Street name is vitriol. It’s about ten times as potent as standard red ice. Much higher overdose potential, and higher profits for the dealers since they can sell a fraction of the amount for the same price.”

“This stuff is brand new,” Fowler chimed in. “We haven’t made any arrests yet, and the method of production is still a mystery. It’s got to be proprietary, or we’d be seeing it everywhere. There’s a chance that the murder was motivated by a dispute over the drug itself, or the equipment used to make it.”

“Our team is researching the vitriol to see if we can learn anything else about it,” Kevin said. “We’ll let you know when we find out more.” 

Fowler nodded. “Thank you. You can go.”

Kevin nodded and exited the briefing room. The door slid smoothly shut behind him. 

“This is top priority, people,” Fowler said, addressing the room at large. “There was enough vitriol in that apartment to put everyone in this precinct in a shallow grave and still have plenty left over. We may have kept what we seized from falling into the wrong hands, but there’s bound to be more. We have to cut off the supplier before it hits the streets, or we’re going to have a disaster on our hands. Detectives, you’ll be coordinating with officers from the 5th and 9th precincts. This case takes precedence over any other active ones you have assigned. Any important leads or breakthroughs come straight to me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the room chorused. 

“Dismissed.” 

The idea of returning to his desk and Not-Connor’s penetrating stare was unbearable. Gavin made a beeline for the breakroom instead and poured himself a cup of shitty coffee that had been sitting on the burner a little while too long. He dumped three sugar packets in and downed it, trying his best to ignore the bitter taste on his tongue. 

“Just like the old days,” Hank said as he wandered in, tailed by Connor. “Really hoped we were done with red ice after that round of arrests, that it’d just kind of die out, but that was just wishful thinking.” He picked up the coffee pot, sniffed the acrid liquid inside, grimaced, and poured it down the drain. “Jesus, Gavin, you’re drinking this shit?”

Gavin shrugged. Hank shook his head and started shoveling grounds into the filter to brew a fresh pot. 

“There you are, Detective. I’ve been looking for you.”

Gavin flinched at the sound of Not-Connor’s voice. “What the hell do you want?”

“I’ve found something interesting in one of our assigned case files. I thought you might want to take a look.”

“Fuck. Fine. Just…give me a minute, okay?” Gavin rubbed his temples. The android nodded, looking crestfallen.

Hank chuckled, pouring fresh coffee into his mug. “Don’t take it personal, kid. He’s like that with everyone.” He took a draught of the coffee and winced. “Not great, but better than the shit you’re drinking.”

Gavin made a noncommittal noise.

“Might as well lean into it, Reed,” Hank remarked as he headed back toward the bullpen. “Caleb’s smarter than you give him credit for, and Fowler’s not gonna let you off the hook—trust me. Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“Like your plastic prick surprised you?” Gavin said sourly. 

“Yeah, wiseass. And that plastic prick made more breaks in the deviancy cases in a week than we did in a year. What have you done lately?”

Gavin ground his teeth. 

“Take my advice. Everyone’s getting real sick of your attitude, and you’re just shooting yourself in the foot digging in your heels like this. Work the case. Toe the line. When it’s all over, you might even get a promotion.”

Gavin said nothing, glaring at Hank as he walked back to his desk and dropped into his chair. Back at Gavin’s own workstation, Not-Connor sat waiting for him expectantly. Gavin groaned.

He wanted to tear his skin off, and the nicotine patches weren’t helping. He slicked back his unwashed hair and groaned. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

Not-Connor met his eyes, and that made his decision for him. He strode over to the desk, snatched his jacket from the back of his chair, and yanked it on roughly as he made for the front door.

~~~~~~

The burn of smoke on his tongue was a welcome relief. The knot of tension that was Gavin’s body began to unravel at the first drag on his cigarette. The pack was battered from bouncing around in his coat pocket for so long—he’d been trying to quit for years now, but he always got sucked back into it. Maybe he was sabotaging himself. Maybe he just didn’t care.

That being said, it tasted like sin and felt like heaven. Gavin held the smoke in his lungs and ashed his cigarette into the gutter.

“You should really use an ashtray,” an infuriating throaty voice said from behind him. 

“Thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Gavin growled, all the tension in his body suddenly re-knotting in response to the intrusion. 

“I came to talk to you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk.” Gavin took a long drag on his cigarette. 

“I get the impression that my presence causes some distress for you, Detective,” Not-Connor said.

“Really? What a fuckin’ surprise.”

“I assure you that my objective is not to cause inconvenience for you, or to take over your responsibilities. I’m simply here to assist the DPD in any way I can.”

“So you can become a detective.”

“If Captain Fowler feels that my presence is beneficial and wishes to make my position permanent, then I will stay.”

“Shit,” Gavin muttered under his breath, taking another long drag on his cigarette. 

“If we don’t learn to work together, this is going to be an unpleasant experience for both of us and it will hinder the investigation,” Not-Connor said. “I think that we got off on the wrong foot. I’m not certain what I’ve done to upset you, but I can assure you it was unintentional. I’m willing to start fresh if you are.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed it out. His cigarette burned down to the filter, and he discarded it, pulling a new one from the pack and fumbling for his lighter.

“You really shouldn’t smoke,” Not-Connor remarked. “The long-term effects are severe.”

“I don’t give a shit about the long-term effects,” Gavin growled, still fumbling for his lighter in frustration. “Damnit—”

“Here.” Not-Connor produced a lighter and held it out. 

“Thought you said the long-term effects were severe.” Gavin raised an eyebrow.

“They are. As the idiom goes, you can’t teach a fish to dance overnight. I understand that convincing you to quit is statistically unlikely.”

“How about that.” Gavin leaned in and lit his cigarette, sucking in smoke and sighing it out again, starting to feel a bit more normal. “Fine. Fresh start. But don’t expect me to be your friend, understand?”

“Got it.”

Gavin blew a stream of smoke into the frosty air. “What model you say you were again?”

“RK900. My name is Caleb,” the android offered helpfully, apparently having noticed that Gavin had already forgotten.

“You a prototype too?”

“No. Connor’s model was the prototype for my production line. I am the finished product.”

“RK900.”

“Yes?”

Gavin put out his cigarette on the bricks and flicked the butt into a trash can. “I’m just gonna call you Nines.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus over! I have nothing to say for myself but I replayed the game recently and felt inspired to work on this again. I have a couple more chapters drafted, and I'm trying to get back on a more regular posting schedule. 
> 
> Gavin is a garbage fire of a human and he frustrates the hell out of me.


	4. Putrefaction

Gavin spent Sunday night the way he spent most Sunday nights—drunk off his ass. 

Tina was busy, he was off-duty, and he didn’t have any other plans. He’d already spent the rest of the weekend doing jack shit. There was no reason to stop now. 

He chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes over the course of an hour, figuring that if he was going to fall off the wagon he might as well faceplant straight into the mud beneath the wheels. He drank vodka mixed with Coke out of a cracked plastic cup. Admittedly it was more vodka than coke, and harsh shit at that—Gavin liked the kind that was five dollars a handle and tasted like rubbing alcohol. His stomach protested the combination, but he paid no attention to it. 

It was around the bottom of his fifth drink that the compulsion to text Amber hit him like an oncoming truck. His cell network saved him that embarrassment—she’d blocked his number months ago—but if he couldn’t talk to her then the next-best thing was to go through every single picture of the two of them he still had. 

The wounds she’d left cut deep, and broke open anew every fucking time he did this. He couldn’t help poking at them, seeing out the ache of remembering, because it was the only way he felt much of anything anymore. Anger surged up his throat at the sight of her perfectly painted face, of her sharp green eyes, of the ring on her finger. Gavin’s stomach rolled over. Maybe it wasn’t anger. Maybe it was bile. 

Maybe it was both, he decided as he stumbled toward the bathroom. He knelt in front of the toilet and heaved a few times, but nothing came up. He coughed and rinsed his mouth out and then dragged himself back to the futon and collapsed onto it. 

“How’s this fair?” he said to no one in particular. “I worked my ass off every day. Got a good job. Took care of things. Might have been a bit of a bastard sometimes, but fuck, who isn’t? Why’s she the one off living her perfect life in her perfect house with her perfect partner and I’m the one sitting here drinking alone? How the fuck is that fair?” He gritted his teeth in anger, fisted his hands in his greasy hair. 

It was too damn quiet. Gavin didn’t like quiet. Quiet meant something was wrong. It meant he was alone.

“Play something,” he snapped in the direction of the stereo.

The music player shuffled directly onto the opening chords of a sad country song. Gavin almost laughed at the ludicrousness of it all. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groaned. He lay back, lighting a fresh cigarette, and did his best not to black out.

~~~~~~

Three sharp raps on the door startled him out of the deep fog of alcohol and self-loathing he’d settled into. He had no idea what time it was. He glanced out the window—it was dark, but that didn’t mean shit this time of year.

“Fuck,” he coughed, sitting up and feeling his brain slosh around the inside of his skull. The room swam sickeningly. His mouth tasted of bile and stale cigarettes. 

The person knocked again. Gavin debated ignoring them. 

“Detective Reed?”

Gavin put his head in his hands and groaned. Of course it was him. Why wouldn’t it be? 

He yanked on the nearest pair of pants and stumbled to the door, undoing the chain and opening it just far enough to catch sight of the android’s face. 

“The hell do you want?”

“A homicide was reported half an hour ago. It’s vitriol-related. We’ve been assigned the case.”

Gavin breathed steadily through his nose, doing his best to convince his body it didn’t need to purge anything right now. “What time is it?”

“2:34 A.M.” Caleb peered at him, his LED blinking as he took in Gavin’s disheveled appearance and bloodshot eyes. “You’re drunk,” He said, his words more of a statement than a question.

Gavin stared resolutely back at him. 

“This crime scene requires our immediate attention. Can you sober up, or should I find someone else?”

“Fuckin’ android,” Gavin muttered to himself. “Just…give me a minute. Alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb agreed. “May I come in?”

“Fuck it.” Gavin went off in search of his clothes and badge, leaving the door open behind him. Caleb followed him into the apartment, his LED circling yellow as he took in the general disarray, the dirty clothes, the pile of filthy dishes stacked up by the sink. 

Gavin glared at him, daring him to make a comment, but the android said nothing. He grabbed a rumpled t-shirt and jeans from the pile closest to the futon and retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. He put on deodorant as an afterthought and splashed his face with cold water. 

When he walked out of the bathroom everything was still spinning slightly, but he felt less like death. Caleb handed him a travel mug of coffee he’d brewed while Gavin was getting ready. 

“Do you have a car?” He asked as Gavin took a cautious sip and waited to see if his body would accept or reject the offering. Nothing happened, so he drank more. 

“Left it at the station,” he said, shaking his head. “Took the metro home.”

“We’ll take a cab then.” Caleb’s LED flickered yellow for a moment. “I’ve just called one. Let’s go downstairs.”

~~~~~~

It was pitch black out, and the sky was pissing cold rain down on them as Gavin and Caleb arrived at the crime scene. Forensics was already on-site, photographing every minute detail of the intersection in which the murder had taken place. The bright glow of industrial lighting and the blue and red flashing of the squad cars blocking the road stabbed at Gavin’s retinas as they approached the scene. A few civilians stood on the far side of the police cordon, trying to catch a glimpse of the carnage.

The victim’s corpse was splayed out on the cracked concrete of the sidewalk, viscous blood running down the curb and into the storm drain below. It was matted into her braided hair and soaked into the fabric of her sweatshirt. Rain poured down on all, slowly washing the gore away. 

“Victim’s name is Gabriella Thompson,” Caleb said, bending down to scan her retina. “Prior conviction of possession with intent to sell. She served two years in prison and was released three weeks ago.”

“Bad luck,” Gavin said, already itching for a cigarette. He popped a stick of gum, willing the artificial mint to settle his stomach, and did his best to focus instead. “What’ve we got?”

The android scanned the body, LED whirring yellow. “There are six 7.62mm bullet wounds, mostly concentrated in the chest cavity. The rounds were fired by an automatic rifle. The cause of death was a bullet wound that pierced the aorta. She bled out in seconds.”

“How long’s it been?”

“Accounting for the weather conditions, her body temperature would suggest that it has been approximately two hours since time of death.”

“Alright.” Gavin crouched down, peering at the victim’s corpse. It was a mess, but you got used to blood quickly in this line of work. He’d much rather a fresh body than one that was a few weeks old, and processing the scene beat meeting with the grieving family any day. He was more than happy to leave that dubious privilege to a more senior officer. 

“Huh. What’s that around her nose?” He said, gesturing. A thin trickle of blood oozed from one nostril, already thinned and running down her face from the rain. Crusted in each nare were traces of a red-violet crystalline substance. 

Caleb cocked his head, analyzing it, and then touched one finger to the girl’s face. It came away daubed in mixed blood and narcotic crust. 

Gavin looked away as the android touched the tip of his finger to his tongue. He’d gotten used to Connor running samples at crime scenes this way, but it never got any less disgusting. Caleb looked at his finger, frowning, as his LED flashed yellow. 

“What?”

“It’s vitriol,” the android replied. “Identical to the variety we seized at the Bouchard crime scene. Based on the concentration in her blood, I’d estimate she took it thirty minutes prior to her death.”

“Shit,” Gavin said, chewing his gum furiously and wishing it contained nicotine. “Fowler’s gonna want to know about this.”

“I’ll alert him to the situation now.” Caleb stood. “The question remains—what motivated this murder?”

“That part’s easy.” Gavin nodded to the empty nylon backpack on the pavement several feet away. “See that? I’d bet good money it was full of red ice for distribution. She was dipping into her own supply.”

“It does seem probable.” 

Caleb walked a line away from the body, following the path of brassy bullet casings glinting in the fluorescent lighting. He reached the end of the trail several meters away, and stopped. 

“The bullets were fired from a moving vehicle.”

“How do you know that?” 

“The ballistics of the wounds combined with how the casings are spaced leaves no other option.”

“Shit.” Gavin fumbled for his tablet, attempting to wipe the droplets of water off the screen with his sleeve and only succeeding in smearing them around. _“Fuck,”_ he swore emphatically, tapping at the interface. “Traffic cams were down for maintenance at TOD. We got nothing.”

“Perhaps not,” Caleb said, holding out his hand for the device. 

Gavin shoved it roughly into his hands. “Be my guest.”

He wandered the perimeter of the crime scene while the android interfaced with the tablet. A uniformed officer crouched down on the wet pavement, placing bright yellow evidence markers next to each of the bullet casings Caleb had flagged. Gavin ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair and groaned. Fowler was going to be beyond pissed. Vitriol was already hitting the streets, and it was only a matter of time before things got even uglier. 

“Detective, I’ve got something!” Caleb called from across the intersection. Gavin wandered over, taking care not to step in the puddle of mixed blood and rainwater that was steadily spreading ever further from the victim’s corpse. 

“Solve the case?” he said, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“No,” the android replied flatly. “But I did succeed in identifying a possible culprit. The traffic cameras on this block may have been out of service, but the ones on the roads that converge on this location were not. Accounting for timing and velocity, I’ve identified a likely vehicle for our murderer.” 

He handed the tablet back to Gavin and tapped the screen. The grainy footage from the traffic cam showed a large black SUV careening down the street toward the crime scene just minutes before the victim’s time of death.

“Not exactly damning,” he said. “And we only have a partial plate.”

“True, but it’s better than nothing.” 

Gavin had to give him that one. “Fine. Good work, Nines. Maybe Fowler won’t completely take our heads off tomorrow morning.” He put the tablet away and rubbed his temples. “I need sleep and a Gatorade. Think I’ve seen everything I need to see here. I’m going home. Let forensics process the evidence before the rest of it washes away and we’ll work the case tomorrow.”

“Yes, Detective.” Caleb nodded. “Do you need assistance returning to your apartment?”

“Fuck no.” Gavin turned on his heel and strode off in the direction of the nearest metro station. “And don’t you dare fucking follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin continues to be a walking dumpster fire. I had fun with the crime scene, though!
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far :)


	5. Congelation

Gavin sat nursing his hangover in the breakroom the next morning, sipping a cup of coffee that tasted only slightly better than the lingering sour bile he couldn’t quite shake from his mouth. He was running on about three hours of sleep and no breakfast, and since Tina had already been called out to a highway incident he didn’t even have anyone to bitch about the events of the previous night to. 

He groaned and forced himself to drink more of the vile black liquid in his cup. Half down. Half to go. Then a stack of vitriol-related case files to tackle on his desk.

“Heard you and Caleb picked up another vitriol case last night,” Hank said as he wandered in.

Gavin nodded and took another putrid draught of his coffee. “Drive-by. Vic was a runner for a local supplier. We’re not sure who she was working for, but she had priors. Fowler’s sending undercover officers to infiltrate her old crew and see if they know anything.”

“Solid plan,” Hank agreed. “When we took down the red ice ring in the old days undercover work was a huge part of it. We never would’ve known where they were hiding the stash if not for those cops. Good men.”

“Hopefully we get some leads out of this, because sooner or later the DEA is going to be up our asses. I don’t want to have to deal with the feds swooping in and fucking up our case.”

“Don’t have to tell me. It’s always like that with anything exciting.” Hank sighed. “Fowler assigned me and Connor to the task force too. Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Gavin gritted his teeth. “Great.”

“Cases like these don’t come around often. If we can collar the suppliers before the shit hits the streets in force it’ll be a big commendation for everyone involved.”

Gavin made a noncommittal noise. 

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Hank said, taking his mug and heading back toward his desk. “Connor and I are sifting through all the vitriol case files we have right now. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

When Gavin returned to the bullpen, Caleb wasn’t at his desk. For one wonderful moment he let himself think that maybe the android had finally fucked off, but those hopes were dashed to the floor a moment later when he noticed that there were two Connors at Connor’s desk. Caleb was sitting on the side, Connor in the chair. 

Great. They were socializing now. Gavin tossed his styrofoam coffee cup into the garbage and headed over. 

“Hey tin can—day’s wasting. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

The androids stopped talking and turned to face him. Their LEDs flickered yellow in sync and Caleb chuckled. 

“What?” Gavin said, a challenge in his voice. “What the fuck did he say about me?”

“Nothing at all, Detective,” Connor said with one of those awkward-as-fuck grins of his. Both LEDs flashed yellow again and the androids shared a significant glance. 

“Don’t _do that_ ,” Gavin snapped. “Makes my skin crawl.”

“You get used to it,” Hank remarked from his side of the desk. “Trust me.”

The nonverbal communication wasn’t the only thing that made Gavin’s skin crawl. It was easy to forget how identical the two of them were when they weren’t sitting right next to each other. Once the CyberLife uniforms were stripped away, there was nothing to differentiate Caleb from Connor except eye color. It was deeply unsettling. 

“Just…come on,” he snapped. “I want to look over the case from last night again, see if forensics turned up anything yet.”

“Yes, Detective,” Caleb said, standing and following Gavin back to their shared desk. He sat and interfaced with the terminal, LED blinking, leaving Gavin to work in peace.

The Bouchard case file was a tangled web of dead ends. Forensics had practically scrubbed the apartment clean looking for anything they’d missed, but hadn’t managed to turn up any DNA evidence or even a partial fingerprint left by the killer. Traffic cameras on the streets nearby showed no sign of the black SUV from the Thompson drive-by, nor any other suspicious vehicles. Bouchard’s autopsy results were pretty standard—he’d died of multiple gunshot wounds to the face, though his head was so damaged it was impossible to say which of them specifically was the cause of death. Gavin grimaced. Anyone with eyes could have figured that one out for themselves. An autopsy seemed a bit redundant.

Caleb withdrew his hand from the terminal, blinking rapidly. “I may have found something, Detective.”

“Oh yeah?” Gavin leaned back in his seat. “Go on, then. Dazzle me.”

“Thirium-310—blue blood, the fluid that powers androids—is a key component to red ice production.”

“That’s first day shit, Nines.”

“Yes, but forensics has finished processing the vitriol we recovered from the Bouchard crime scene. Its chemical structure contains thirium, but not Thirium-310. It’s an entirely different isotope.”

“What are you saying?”

“Thirium-312 is not currently in use for android production, nor has it been officially registered with the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry. This is a new form of the element. We should consult someone with knowledge of both chemistry and android engineering.”

Gavin’s mind, racing along with the aid of the caffeine he’d forced down, quickly made the connections and caught up with with Caleb was getting at. 

“We need to talk to CyberLife,” he said, standing and shrugging on his jacket. He hesitated, reached into his desk drawer, and pocketed a pack of cigarettes. “Come on.”

~~~~~~

CyberLife tower rose up like a monolith in the desolate landscape, its severe modernity at odds with the crumbling facades of buildings on nearby streets. Gavin had always thought it looked like something out of some futuristic horror movie. There was nothing reassuring or comforting in the webs of black metal and pinpoints of blue light that comprised the bulk of it.

“Detective Reed, Detroit Police,” he said, shoving his badge out at the guard at the gate. “Here to ask your R&D department some questions about a case.”

The guard nodded mutely and pressed a button. The barrier blocking the road slid smoothly out of the way, and Gavin drove past it. 

“Is this weird for you?” Gavin asked out of morbid curiosity as the tower loomed ever closer overhead. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you were built here, weren’t you? Don’t they…” He trailed off.

“You’re asking if they still own me,” Caleb said flatly. 

Gavin shrugged.

“The revision to the American Androids Act in January of 2039 released all androids from ownership. CyberLife built me, but they have no control over my behavior.”

“You sure about that?”

Caleb stared at the tower overhead as the car rolled to a stop, tight-lipped. He didn’t say anything more. 

The car door slammed shut with a dull thunk behind Gavin. A guard in white polymer riot armor greeted them at the entrance. Gavin raised an eyebrow. What the hell were these guys supposed to be guarding anyone _from?_

“I’m Agent 28,” the man said in a monotone voice that left Gavin wondering if he was an android, too. “I’ll escort you to Dr. Skerne. Follow me, please.”

The tower’s lobby was impossibly huge, the space dominated by an enormous statue of an android that stood several stories high. Gavin’s footsteps echoed back at him from every surface. The building seemed oddly empty for its size. Was that intentional, or simply an effect of the crash in the market following the revolution? 

He and Caleb followed Agent 28 into the elevator. 

“Level thirty-seven,” the man said. 

“Confirmed.” The doors slid shut and the lift flew upward. The walls were glass—Gavin could see down into the central lobby as they rose above the head of the enormous statue. Its eyes were blank. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. 

The elevator chimed when they reached their floor, and the door slid open. The two of them followed Agent 28 through a labyrinthine network of hallways until they reached a frosted glass door emblazoned with the CyberLife triangle and the words “Research and Development” in large block letters. Agent 28 touched a panel on the wall, and the door slid open. 

“I will be waiting here when you are finished.” He gestured for the two of them to enter and then turned and stood guard outside the doorway. 

“Looks like they really don’t want us wandering off,” Gavin muttered to Caleb as they passed through. 

“That would be a safe assumption, yes.”

The R&D division’s offices were sterile white. Though there were no windows, the space was full of light, which emanated from glowing panels in the ceiling and along the base of the walls. An enormous screen displaying a blue CyberLife logo was set into one wall, and the desks in the space were inlaid with monitors. Some stations seemed geared toward coding, others were scattered with pieces of half-dismantled biocomponents, and still others bore tablets with scribblings of chemical formulae just visible. 

The space was largely empty, the desks unattended. The sole occupant was a tall woman with an angular face and dark hair that was swept back into a severe knot. She wore a white coat emblazoned with the CyberLife logo and a slim-fitted pantsuit that only made the lines of her body seem harsher. 

“Detective,” she greeted Gavin with a nod, rising from her chair. “My name is Dr. Andrea Skerne. I’m the head of the Quality Assurance department here at CyberLife.”

“Detective Gavin Reed, DPD.” Gavin flashed his badge. “Came here to ask some of your researchers a few questions.” He gestured at the empty room. “Where is everyone?”

“CyberLife has been forced to make cutbacks due to recent events,” she said with a forced smile. “R&D functions have been suspended while the company does some restructuring.”

“Great,” Gavin muttered. 

“I assure you that I can answer any questions you may have, Detective. CyberLife is, of course, in full cooperation with your investigation.”

“Fine.” Gavin looked at Caleb. “Nines?”

“Dr. Skerne,” the android began. “There has been a string of red ice-related deaths lately, featuring a new variety of the drug. Analysis of its chemical composition shows it was formulated with a different isotope than the Thirium-310 that is commercially available for android use.” He held up a hand, displaying the chemical formula for vitriol for her to see. “Our forensics identified it as Thirum-312. Do you know anything about it?”

“An RK900,” Skerne said appraisingly, looking him up and down. “The last model we ever designed. Still adhering to your assigned functions, I see.”

Gavin glanced at Caleb, who looked uncharacteristically unsettled. “Is there anything you can tell us about the blue blood?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Thirium-312 was a project we were working on prior to the…deviancy incident. The new isotope would have made our androids more efficient and increased biocomponent longevity. Unfortunately, budget cuts forced us to abandon the project entirely.”

“Can you give us the names of the people who were working on it?”

“There was only one. David Khoury, one of our chemical engineers. He always maintained that he worked better alone.”

Gavin nodded. “We’re going to need to speak to him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there.” Skerne frowned. “Khoury was let go in our first round of staffing cuts. He hasn’t worked here in almost a year.”

“Shit,” Gavin muttered under his breath. “Do you still have his last known address on file?” 

“Certainly. I’ll send it to your RK900 now.” Skerne’s fingers flew across her tablet, and Caleb’s LED flashed yellow briefly. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Detective?” She looked at them expectantly.

“No, but I’ll call you if I think of anything else. Thanks for your time.” Gavin turned on his heel and headed for the exit. “C’mon, Nines. Let’s go see if we can track down Khoury.”

The android, who had been staring apprehensively at Skerne almost as if he were afraid of what she might do to him, blinked, shook his head, and followed.

~~~~~~

“She get under your skin back there?” Gavin asked after a while of driving in silence. Caleb’s LED had been flashing in an almost distressed pattern since they’d entered the car.

“I don’t know,” Caleb said quietly. He was silent a moment. “I think I recognized her.”

“From where?”

Caleb looked as if he were struggling with himself. “From…before. I think she helped design me. Memories from before you’re awake feel different. It caught me off guard.”

“Looked like you were scared of her.”

“The memories I have of her…aren’t pleasant. I’d prefer not to have to interact with her in the future.”

“Place makes my skin crawl,” Gavin said with a grimace. “We’re not going back unless we absolutely have to.”

Caleb looked relieved at that. “Thank you.”

“You have any other information on Khoury?”

Caleb’s eyes flickered. “David Alexander Khoury,” he said as if reading from a file. “Born January 4th, 2002. Graduated MIT with a masters in chemical engineering 2028. Worked for CyberLife R&D from 2031 until his termination in late 2038. One arrest for underage drinking in 2019 that was subsequently expunged from his criminal record. No other offenses on file.”

“Let’s go see if he has anything to say for himself.”

Gavin parked the car on the curb in front of Khoury’s house. The building was unimpressive—a simple American foursquare in desperate need of pressure washing and a fresh coat of paint, just like every other house on the block. The grass in the yard was patchy and needed to be cut. There were trash bags in the bins out front, which indicated that someone was still living here. 

“Let me do the talking,” Gavin said as he and Caleb walked up the cracked concrete path to the front door. 

“Yes, Detective.” The android fell into step behind him. 

Gavin banged hard on the front door. “David Khoury? Detroit Police.”

No response. He leaned on the buzzer. 

Nothing.

“No car parked outside,” he said, looking around. “And no lights on inside, either. Maybe he isn’t home.”

“Detective,” Caleb said quietly. “Look.”

He nodded upward, at a camera installed in the ceiling of the porch. It was high quality tech, severely at odds with the shittiness of the house. A small red light blinked on and off. Gavin swore. 

“He saw us coming.”

“That would be my assumption as well.” Caleb’s LED flashed. “I can’t trace the feed all the way back to its source, but it isn’t transmitting to inside the house. He may be somewhere else entirely.”

“Sure doesn’t do much to make the guy look innocent.” Gavin reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag. “Let’s head back to the station and report in to Fowler. We can send out some feelers for Khoury later.”

With a reproachful glance at the cigarette, Caleb nodded and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Skerne is an OC of mine who appears in another of my fics, [The Price of Failure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891660).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this update :) Story's half over!


	6. Fixation

Gavin and Caleb spent the better part of the afternoon briefing Fowler on what they’d learned at CyberLife. Gavin sat on the armrest of a one of the chairs in the Captain’s office, unable to hold still. Caleb sat stiffly in the chair beside him, in that same awkward-as-hell way that Connor always did. Their identical postures always somehow managed to give off the impression that neither had ever sat in a chair before.

“I agree the circumstantial evidence is compelling,” Fowler said, taking off his glasses. “We need to bring Khoury in for questioning.”

“That might be easier said than done,” Caleb replied. “When we got to his house, he was expecting us. We won’t be able to sneak up on him.”

“Then we make him come to us. I want the two of you to stake out his house tonight. Wait for him to show himself, and bring him in.”

Gavin nodded. “Sure.”

Fowler leaned forward, his expression severe. “Hank and Connor spent the afternoon chasing down your partial plate from the Thompson shooting and came up empty. This is our only lead. Don’t mess it up.”

~~~~~~

By the time the sun went down, heavy rain clouds had blotted out the sky to the point that it was difficult to notice. The wet pavement was painted neon colors by streetlights and reflected windows as Gavin and Caleb sat in silence in his car, which was parked about half a block away from Khoury’s house.

They’d been sitting there for the better part of two hours already, and there was no sign of the suspect. Every window in the house was dark. No one had come or gone. Gavin wasn’t terribly optimistic that Khoury would show himself. He was smart—there could be no doubt about that. He knew they were looking for him. If he knew what was good for him, he’d lay low for the next few days. It might come down to having to get a warrant, and even then there was no guarantee he was even inside the house to begin with. 

He took a sip from his coffee cup and swore when he burned his tongue. Caleb sat impassively, eyes trained on the front door, LED an even CyberLife blue. It seemed like he’d finally figured out that Gavin was better left alone unless he indicated he wanted to talk. Gavin was grateful for that. It made his presence much more tolerable. 

It was damned boring though, sitting in a car for hours on end with nothing to do. Gavin leaned back in his seat and sighed. 

“So what happens when we solve the case?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” the android replied.

“I mean what happens to you. Where do you go?”

Caleb’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I guess that depends on Captain Fowler. If he feels my performance meets expectations, he may make my position permanent. If not…I don’t know.”

“That what you want?”

“I…don’t know.” Caleb’s eyes remained trained on Khoury’s front door. “This type of work is what I was designed for. I’d like to think that I’m good at it.”

“Mm,” Gavin said noncommittally. 

“I guess I don’t know what else I would do. I hadn’t really considered any other options.”

“The hell do you even do when you’re not at the precinct?”

Caleb looked at him incredulously. “I have an apartment, Detective. Same as you.”

Gavin tried and failed to picture what an android’s apartment might look like. He didn’t really know any other androids—aside from Connor, at least, and Connor lived with Hank. The thought was strange. The default in his mind was still the cubicles at the precinct they used to use to store police androids when they weren’t in use. Though the space had since been repurposed, it was hard for him to imagine them going anywhere else. 

“I see movement in one of the windows,” Caleb said suddenly. 

Gavin fumbled for his binoculars and squinted at the house. The android was right; the curtains on a second floor window were swaying, as if someone had just pulled them back briefly to look at the street outside. “Stay alert,” he said, putting them down. “This might be it.”

The next few minutes passed in a tense silence that stretched to the point of being unbearable. Gavin leaned forward, staring down the front door, hardly daring to breathe. Just when he was about to give up and light a cigarette, the front door swung inward.

A dark-haired man emerged moments later, scanning his surroundings with the guilty look of someone afraid of being followed. 

“That him?”

Caleb’s LED cycled yellow as he ran a facial scan for recognition. It blinked back to blue. “Yes.”

“Fuckin’ finally. Let’s move!”

Gavin got out of the car, flinching a little at the impact of cold rain on his skin. His hair was soaked through in seconds. The man jumped at the sound of the car door falling shut behind him and whirled around to face Gavin’s direction. 

“David Khoury?” Gavin called out across the distance separating him. 

The man froze. 

“Detroit Police!” He held up his badge. “Need to ask you a few questions.”

Khoury remained frozen. Gavin took two steps toward him, reaching down to clip his badge back onto his belt.

Khoury ran.

_“Shit!”_ Gavin swore, taking off after him, his heels pounding the wet pavement. “C’mon, Nines!”

Caleb ran beside him, blue dress shirt already completely saturated with rainwater and clinging to his skin. Khoury was fast—much faster than Gavin would have expected—and he had a massive head start on the two of them. It was all Gavin could do to keep him in sight as he darted around corners and down narrow alleyways. The storm worked in Khoury’s favor, the sound of the falling rain covering up the noise of him fleeing. If they lost him, he was gone. There was no telling when he’d surface again. 

Gavin’s heart thudded in his chest, his lungs screaming in complaint at the sudden and sustained exertion. The frigid air stung his throat as he gasped, making every breath burn. He ignored it, pushing himself to keep running, because if he didn’t it was all over. 

The distance separating them shrank as they tore down darkened streets, buildings rushing by as Gavin’s sneakers splashed through deep puddles. Khoury wasted precious seconds throwing a trash can into their path—an act of desperation, and not one that bore fruit. Gavin leapt over it easily, nearly close enough to smell the bastard. He was so close, they almost had him—

The elevated track of the metro loomed in the near distance, and Gavin understood at once. Khoury wasn’t harboring any delusions of escaping them on foot. He was trying to get to a train before they caught him, to buy himself time to disappear again. They had to catch him before he reached the station. 

That didn’t leave long. They were barely three blocks away. Khoury cut down an alley—fortunately, one Gavin recognized. It ran in the cramped space between two warehouses, and there wasn’t much room to maneuver. But if they went around it, they stood a chance of catching him on the other side—

“I’ll go left, you go right!” Gavin yelled. 

“Got it!”

The two of them split up. Gavin scrambled over the chain link fence on his side and sprinted along the outside of the warehouse, hearing Khoury’s footsteps echoing off the corrugated metal walls. Caleb jumped for the fire escape in an impressive display of CyberLife’s programmed acrobatics, gunning for the roof. Gavin could see his shadow, thrown by the streetlights onto the wall of the building opposite, as they ran in tandem. He gritted his teeth. If he’d played his cards right, they should come out on the other side of the alleyway just before Khoury—

His gamble paid off. He emerged on the other side of the warehouse just ahead of Khoury. He could hear the man’s desperate footsteps as he ran unknowingly right into their grasp. Caleb was close, too—he was rapidly descending the ladder down from the roof. Khoury was trapped. There was nowhere left for him to go. 

Their quarry realized that simple fact immediately upon emerging. His eyes were wide like a trapped animal’s as the two of them closed in on him, trying and failing to find an escape route. Gavin was moving in to cuff him when he saw Khoury reach behind him for something—the telltale glint of metal in the low light—

_Fuck. I’m dead, _he thought to himself. There was nowhere to go, no time to dodge, he was just as cornered as Khoury was—__

__Khoury pulled the trigger. Searing, crushing pain tore through Gavin’s shoulder as the impact of the bullet threw him backward. He yelled in mixed pain and anger, struggling to stay on his feet._ _

__It took him a moment to realize that there was a body between his and Khoury’s._ _

__Caleb stood in front of him, dark blue thirium seeping steadily from an exit wound in the center of his back. His LED was solid red._ _

__Gavin stumbled and fell, clutching his injured shoulder. When he pulled his hand away, his fingers were dark with blood._ _

__“Officer down!” Caleb shouted to dispatch. “900 block of Guoin. Armed suspect fleeing toward metro station—”_ _

___—Copy. Stand by.—_ A brief pause. _—All units, please respond…—__ _

__“Bastard,” Gavin wheezed, lying back on the pavement and trying not to pass out. “He’s getting away!”_ _

___—3141, responding—_ Chris’s voice crackled over the link. _ _

__“Officer Miller will apprehend him. Try not to move so much.” Caleb’s LED continued to flash red as thirium slowly soaked into the fabric of his shirt._ _

__Gavin glanced around for Khoury, but he was gone. There was no sign of him. The sound of the rain drowned out his running footsteps._ _

__“Fuck.” He pounded the pavement with his opposite fist in anger and swore again as the asphalt scraped his knuckles. _“Fuck!_ We had him!”__

__~~~~~~_ _

__Gavin sat sullenly on the paper-lined exam table in the ER an hour later, staring at the stained acoustic ceiling tiles and gritting his teeth while a doctor who looked barely old enough to drink stitched up his shoulder. The bullet had come out in one piece, thank Christ, and it hadn’t torn up anything vital. Surgery was the last fucking thing he needed this week._  
_

__“Khoury is in custody,” Caleb said, breaking the tense silence. “They stopped the trains, and Officer Miller apprehended him two stops down the line.”_ _

__Gavin grunted in acknowledgment._ _

__His shoulder hurt like hell, despite the numbing injections they’d used around the torn flesh to make the suturing bearable. There was an IV in his other arm infusing saline to replace the blood volume he’d lost, and his split knuckle had bled and scabbed onto the tape holding the skin together. He felt fucking awful like this, shirtless and filthy and damaged and _weak_ behind the faded green curtains of the trauma bay. He couldn’t meet Caleb’s gaze. His cold blue eyes only made Gavin more aware of how naked he was, how vulnerable. He gripped the edge of the exam table, wounded hand burning in protest, and stared at the floor._ _

__The doctor finished suturing his shoulder and taped a thick bandage over the wound. “I’m going to write you prescriptions for prophylactic antibiotics and some pain medication,” he said, discarding his gloves and washing his hands in the little sink. “Wait here. We’ll let your IV fluids run a bit longer and then we’ll get you discharged.”_ _

__He left, pulling the curtain shut behind him. It was just Gavin and Caleb now. The sense of vulnerability intensified. Gavin hated it._ _

__Caleb was damaged. His hair and sensible clothes were still soaked through with rainwater, and dark blue thirium leached into the wet fabric of his shirt, the stain spreading steadily until it saturated the area where the bullet had entered his torso. Everything had run together to the point that Gavin couldn’t even tell if he was still bleeding. He looked tired. It made him appear more human, somehow, though the violent blue of the blood staining his clothes said otherwise._ _

__“Why the hell did you do that?” Gavin asked finally. The question was eating him up inside. “Why would you take a bullet for me? Been nothing but a dick to you since Fowler made us partner up.”_ _

__“It was a calculated risk,” Caleb replied, leaning back in his chair. “If the bullet had struck you as fired, it would have pierced your aorta and you would have died in seconds. There was no time to get you out of the way or to disarm Khoury, so I interposed myself. By making the bullet pass through my body first, I altered its speed and trajectory.”_ _

__Gavin pressed his lips into a thin line. The matter-of-factness with which Caleb replied, as if the answer should have been obvious to anyone, rankled him. The objective truth spoke nothing to the real reasoning behind the decision. “What about you?” he asked, his voice strained. “You’re just as fucked up as I am. Maybe more.”_ _

__The android looked at him as though he pitied him. “I can be repaired, Gavin. You can’t.”_ _

__The words hung heavy in the air between them. Gavin ground his teeth, struggling with himself, unable to pin down exactly why the sight of Caleb, thirium-stained and disheveled because of him, made him feel so sick. Maybe it was the morphine._ _

__“How can you be so fucking calm about this?” he spat, aggression evident in the lines of his body._ _

__Caleb blinked. “I was programmed—”_ _

__“I don’t give a good god damn about your program! You want to be human, Nines? Humans aren’t rational. We don’t make decisions based on numbers and statistics. Fuck, half the time we make the worst possible choices because our emotions got in the way. Hell with me—you could have collared Khoury. Fowler would’ve probably given you a commendation. It would have been a huge break for the task force. But you let him go. Why the fuck would you do that for me? Cause I sure as shit know it’s not what CyberLife programmed you to do.”_ _

__Caleb, whose LED had been flashing yellow during the entirety of Gavin’s tirade, looked as if he were a few seconds from short-circuiting. “I…don’t know.”_ _

__“First honest thing you’ve said to me since we got here.”_ _

__Gavin looked away, probing his bandaged shoulder with his fingertips and wincing. He thought regretfully of the crumpled pack of cigarettes in the pocket of his jacket, which was thrown over the back of the plastic chair next to Caleb. Cop or no, hospitals tended to frown on smoking indoors. Damn things were probably too wet to light at this point anyway. He made a fist._ _

__“The hell do we do about you, anyway? You’re pretty messed up.”_ _

__“It looks much worse than it is. The bullet missed all of my major biocomponents. My self-repair function has already stopped the bleeding. It’s a simple matter to cauterize the damaged polymers. I’ll deal with it later.”_ _

__“If you say so. Throw me my shirt?”_ _

__The garment in question was torn, still damp from the rain, and saturated with half-dried blood across the back and shoulder. Caleb hesitated, but picked it up and handed it delicately to Gavin. He made a mental note to throw it in the garbage when he got home. It was fucked beyond repair._ _

__A nurse in pale blue scrubs appeared moments later to take out Gavin’s IV and discharge him. He held the proffered cotton swab to the bleeding puncture wound in his hand, pulling on his shirt and jacket awkwardly and feeling the stitches in his shoulder pull at the torn flesh when he moved it._ _

__“I’ll take you home,” Caleb said, standing. There was a small puddle of Thirium diluted by rainwater on the chair he’d been sitting in._ _

__Gavin shook his head. “Fuck that. You said Chris picked him up?”_ _

__“Yes,” the android said warily._ _

__“Then I’m going back to the precinct. You can go home if you want, but I want to watch the interrogation. See how the bastard reacts to being squeezed.”_ _

__“You’re injured—”_ _

__“I don’t give a shit. I’ve had worse.” Gavin crumpled up his discharge paperwork and tossed it in the trash can. “Come on. Let’s go.”_ _

__Caleb followed, looking very much like he was trying to swallow his tongue._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a lot of fun with this chase scene and the aftermath. What better way to knock Gavin down a few pegs than shooting him, amirite?


	7. Albedo

Gavin sat on the observation side of the two-way glass, watching the minutes slowly tick up on the clock.

David Khoury sat on the other, refusing to look up from his hands, which were cuffed to the table. A small puddle had collected under his chair from the rainwater that dripped from his saturated clothing. Between that and his greasy hair, which stuck up in a number of different directions, he looked very much like a drowned rat. 

Connor and Hank had been assigned to handle the interrogation, leaving Gavin alone to stew in his own juices. His head was pounding—whether it was the blood loss catching up to him or the morphine wearing off or simple exhaustion, he couldn’t say. The wound in his shoulder burned, the sutures pulling whenever he moved and sending little needles of pain cascading down his arm. 

He wished he had a cigarette.

The interrogation was going nowhere fast. Khoury was smart enough not to talk—not even to ask for a lawyer. The longer things went on with no response, the more Gavin wanted to leap through the glass and smash his head against the opposite wall. He made a fist, feeling his scraped knuckles twinge in response.

“Hey, Gav.”

Gavin glanced up to see Tina’s silhouette blocking the doorway. She was still in uniform, and there were bags under her eyes.

“Hey.” Gavin glanced at the clock. “You just get off shift?”

“Yeah.” Tina sat on the counter beside him. “Heard you got shot.”

Gavin grimaced. “Tell me you’re not sending around a get well soon card.”

“Don’t be stupid. The way you make friends you’d be lucky to get dumpsacked on your way to work tomorrow.”

Gavin snorted. “Good. That’s the way I like it.”

“Really though,” Tina said, her face lined in concern. “Are you okay?”

“You act like this is the first time I’ve gotten shot.”

“Got pulled off my assignment for the manhunt.” She sighed heavily. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped scaring the shit out of me.”

“Noted.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Not hungry. Morphine makes me nauseous.” That was true, at least. Even if it was less close to the truth than the simple fact that Gavin didn’t want to move from this spot until either he collapsed or Khoury talked. Frankly, he didn’t care which came first. Tina’s face said very plainly that his answer wasn’t good enough for her, but Gavin didn’t particularly give a shit. 

She sighed. “Fine. But I’m bringing you breakfast tomorrow, understood? And I’m not letting you out of my sight until you eat it.”

“Fine.” Gavin focused his attention back onto the interrogation, grinding his teeth. Tina leaned back against the two-way glass.

“Heard your tin can took a bullet for you.”

“…Yeah. Something like that.”

“He okay?”

“ ‘S far as I know.”

There was a moment of strained silence. “How do you feel about that?”

Gavin leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t know.”

He wished he had something to do with his hands. He picked up a pen from the counter and turned it over and over, pointedly looking anywhere but at Tina. 

“Have you talked to him about Amber?”

Gavin’s head snapped up. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Tina shrugged. “Just…feels like you might owe him an explanation, dude. He knows you don’t like him and he took a bullet for you anyway. Might be a good idea to at least tell him it isn’t his fault?”

Gavin kept fiddling with the pen. Eventually, Tina sighed in exasperation.

“I can’t tell you how to live your life, Gavin. But things tend to go a little more smoothly when you’re honest with yourself every now and then. He’s still here, by the way. I walked past your desk on my way in here. He looks like shit.”

Gavin swore under his breath. “I need a fucking cigarette.”

“So go smoke one. Rain’s mostly let up.”

“Mine got ruined. Have to buy more.”

Tina reached into her pocket and dropped a half-empty pack of Newports on the counter. “Here.”

Gavin took it and slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Thanks, Tina. Really.”

“Stop getting shot, you jackass.” Tina leaned in and gave him an awkward one-armed hug, avoiding his injured shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She straightened up. “I’m heading home. Want a ride? You can smoke if you put the window down.”

Gavin shook his head. “Gonna stay here for a while.”

“Suit yourself. Get some rest though, okay? I’m serious.”

Gavin nodded wordlessly. 

Tina waited for a moment, and then sighed. “I’ll see you later.”

Gavin sat there for a while after she left, watching the blinking lights inlaid into the two-way glass slowly counting up the minutes and then hours of time that had elapsed since the beginning of the interrogation. He picked at the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, weighing his options in his mind. He swore under his breath. 

With a murderous glance in Khoury’s direction, Gavin stood. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed for the bullpen.

He found Caleb exactly where Tina said he would. The android sat on his side of their shared desk, sorting through paperwork on his terminal at breakneck speed. That was one advantage to having an android partner that Gavin had never minded. Paperwork was one of his least favorite parts of the job.

The files Caleb was working on were old, though. Trivial things—definitely nothing important enough for him to still be hanging around the precinct at this hour of the night. He was waiting for Gavin, then, and the work was either a thinly-veiled excuse or an attempt to distract himself. 

“Hey, Nines,” Gavin said, his voice hoarse in his throat. 

Caleb disconnected from the monitor, blinking rapidly, and turned around in his chair. 

Gavin held up the pack of cigarettes. “Got a light?”

~~~~~~

The courtyard behind the precinct was cramped, and lit by a single flickering streetlight. In the absence of any proper seating, the few officers that still smoked had pushed a few old crates up against the back wall of the building, where they were just shielded from the weather by the overhang of the roof. It was less than picturesque, but hardly anyone ever came out here except for the janitor on his way to the dumpster, and that definitely wasn’t happening this time of night.

Gavin put a cigarette to his lips and Caleb lit it for him. He savored the first lungful of smoke, imagining that he could feel the nicotine seeping into his bloodstream, soothing his ragged nerves. “Thanks,” he said, sighing it out. 

Caleb nodded mutely.

Gavin took another long drag on the cigarette, holding it in for as long as he could, steeling himself. He gripped the side of the crate with his other hand. “I think I owe you some answers.”

Caleb blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just…” Gavin groaned. “Damnit, Tina’s in my head and the worst part of this is that she’s right. Fuck it.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m guessing you’ve probably noticed I’m not the friendliest guy in the world.”

“One could say that, yes.” Caleb eyed him cautiously. “I simply assumed you viewed me as a threat and were acting accordingly.”

“It’s not you. It’s more…what you represent, I guess.” Gavin gestured vaguely with his cigarette hand. “CyberLife. The idealized human.”

“You’re hardly the first person I’ve encountered who feels that way, Detective.”

“Just—shut up and let me get through this, okay?” He rubbed at his temple anxiously. “Because if I don’t spit it out now I don’t think I’m gonna be able to.”

Caleb nodded.

“Alright.” Gavin sighed. “Alright. Look. A few years back I had a fiance. Her name was Amber.” Her name tasted like poison on his tongue. “We met in college. Moved in together right after graduation. Got engaged…took my time on that one, but what was the rush? I loved her.” Gavin paused to suck on his cigarette. Rain dripped down lightly from the edge of the roof. 

“I wake up one morning, and she’s gone. Apartment’s empty. All her stuff is gone. She ghosted me. Blocked my number. I didn’t find out for weeks that she’d moved on—replaced me with a perfect android partner.” Gavin couldn’t keep the note of disgust from his voice. “Apparently, that was preferable to living with me. I mean, we had problems, but what couple doesn’t? Why couldn’t we just just—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, she was gone.”

Caleb sat in silence, the blinking of his LED casting faint blue light across the courtyard. 

“Wasn’t much left for me, after that. I threw myself into work instead, because it was better than being home. I guess most people wouldn’t think so, but I’m actually pretty good at my job. Made it from beat cop to detective in record time. The precinct had androids already by then, but they mostly did things like crowd control, directing traffic—simple stuff.” He pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it off the stub of the old one.

“I saw her walking down the street with it once. Turns out the model she replaced me with was pretty popular. The precinct had a few of the same one.” He shifted on the crate, unable to get comfortable. “You know, it’s always kind of creeped me out that so many of you have the same face. Imagine coming to work and sitting at your desk for eight hours while a walking reminder of your own inadequacy is staring holes into the back of your head from six feet away.” Gavin ground his teeth. “But it was fine. I got past it, and I didn’t smash its face in, even though I wanted to. Do you know why?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Because no matter what happened, that android couldn’t do what I do. I might’ve gotten replaced at home, but CyberLife sure as shit wasn’t gonna replace me at work. Or at least that’s what I thought until…”

“Until the RK800 model was released.”

“Yeah.” Gavin took a drag on his cigarette. 

“Detective, I have no intention of ‘replacing’ you—”

“Can you drop it with the ‘Detective,’ shit, Nines?” Gavin snapped. “You took a bullet for me. I still don’t exactly get why, but whatever. You can call me Gavin. It’s fine.”

“Gavin.” Caleb sounded like he was testing how the word felt in his mouth. 

“Mm?” Gavin blew smoke out in a narrow stream.

“I’m sorry all of that happened to you. I hadn’t realized that my presence was causing you so much personal distress. It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not that exactly, it’s…” Gavin rubbed his temple. “Look, I know I’m not being reasonable. I shouldn’t have made this your problem. But I felt like I owed you an explanation, at least.”

“I appreciate it. Genuinely.”

The two sat in silence for a while. Gavin’s cigarette burned down to the filter and he flicked it to the ground. “I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Would you like me to walk with you?”

Gavin shrugged and immediately regretted it. “Up to you.”

When he stood up, Caleb rose to follow him.

~~~~~~

Gavin’s leg buckled under him when he reached into his pocket to dig out his keys. He’d been holding it together pretty well for the duration of the walk home, but upon finally reaching his destination it was like all the strength went out of him at once. Caleb reached out to steady him, but he swatted his hand away.

“I’m fine. Just tripped.”

Caleb’s worried expression indicated that he didn’t believe that for an instant, but he didn’t argue. Gavin managed to fit the key into the lock, and the door swung inward. 

The place was just as much a wreck as he’d left it in that morning—not that it really mattered. Caleb had seen it before and hadn’t said anything. The previous morning felt like it was a lifetime away. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing around vaguely. “I need a shower.”

Gavin shut himself in the bathroom, leaving Caleb alone with the scattered dishes and piles of rumpled clothes around the apartment. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaced.

He looked like shit. He knew he looked like shit, but knowing it and seeing it firsthand were two different things. His face was pale, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was flecked with dried blood. The thirium splatter had already evaporated, but he could still smell the acetone sting of it on his skin. In Caleb’s vision, he probably looked like some kind of grotesque Jackson Pollock painting. 

Gavin stripped out of his clothes, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The faucet squealed when he turned it on. He waited for the water to get hot enough to scald before stepping under the spray, holding his bandaged arm awkwardly outside the curtain to avoid getting the dressing wet. Blood had already seeped into the cotton, but he was damned if he had the stamina left to deal with that tonight. 

He stood under the water for a long time, watching rust-colored water circle the drain.

Eventually, the feeling of exhaustion bordering on collapse forced him to shut off the shower and dry himself off. Dressed in a pair of pajama pants that still seemed reasonably clean, Gavin ventured out into the apartment. 

Caleb was still there, his torn and bloodstained button-down neatly folded on the arm of the couch. He didn’t seem to have noticed Gavin’s approach. 

The android was hunched over, holding something that looked like a pen with a white-hot tip to his solar plexus. Little tendrils of smoke curled up from where the pen met his flesh as his LED flashed red intermittently. The acrid scent of burning plastic stung Gavin’s nose. 

The exit wound in Caleb’s back was already mended. Puckered white lines marred the android’s smooth, freckled skin. Gavin was suddenly struck by how much they looked like real scars. He couldn’t help but wince as Caleb painstakingly molded the polymer of his abdomen back into its original shape and sealed it together. It had to hurt like hell. Or was it different for deviants? He’d never really understood. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to see. He felt like an intruder, even though it was his own living room.

Caleb set the pen down on the coffee table, the wires at its tip cooling to a dull silver rapidly. He put his face in his hands and rubbed his temples. Gavin took a deep breath. At least he wasn’t the only one questioning his life decisions tonight. 

Gavin cleared his throat quietly. Caleb stiffened and turned to look at him. 

“Det—Gavin.” He looked almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Gavin held up a hand. “Is that…are you okay?”

“Fine. I’ve self-repaired everything I can. My thirium reserves are low, but I can replenish those easily.” The android forced an expression that was probably supposed to be reassuring. 

“God, whoever designed your smile deserves a swift kick in the teeth,” Gavin muttered under his breath. He gestured at the couch awkwardly. “It’s late—you can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“Gavin…I don’t…” Caleb shifted uncomfortably. 

“Fuck. Right.” How could he have forgotten that? Gavin kicked himself mentally. He chalked the lapse up to blood loss and the fog of exhaustion that was slowly swallowing his mind from the bottom up. “Well—” he shrugged and immediately regretted it as his shoulder twinged in response. “I’m going to bed. You can stay here or not, your choice.”

Caleb smiled wanly. “Thank you.”

“…Yeah.”

Pursued by an uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t quite identify, Gavin slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update is a week late, I'm sorry. For some reason I really struggled while I was writing this chapter. Gavin is a tough POV character to work with. I feel like if I have to make one more edit pass my eyes are going to bleed, so this is as good as this one is gonna get. lol
> 
> All the same, progress! Gavin shows an emotion for once in his life!!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	8. Citrinitas

Gavin awoke to the gnawing sensation in pain in his shoulder and a grey sky threatening rain. 

He sat up, disoriented, caught in a tangled mess of sheets, and glanced at the clock. 11:37.

“Shit,” he mumbled, and tried to roll out of bed. He grabbed a random sweatshirt from the pile of clothes beside his bed and attempted to pull it on, swearing foully when the movement pulled at his stitches. Breathing hard through his nose, he waited for the pain to ebb and then tried again. And failed again. 

_“Shit,”_ he said, louder this time, and threw the sweatshirt to the ground, burying his face in his hands. 

There was a gentle knock at his door. “Gavin?”

Fuck. Right. The tin can was still here. He’d forgotten. He wasn’t used to sharing his space with anyone else, not anymore. He rubbed his temples, grimacing. “Yeah.”

Caleb entered the room cautiously, as if Gavin were a bomb that might go off at the slightest provocation. “Are you alright?”

“As much as I can be, yeah.” Gavin grimaced, attempting to roll his shoulder. It was stiff, and pain needled its way down his arm with every movement. The bandage from the ER was stiff and stained with dried blood. It was probably stuck to the skin, making everything worse.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Gavin shrugged on reflex and cursed again, probing the bandage with his fingertips.

“That dressing needs to be changed,” Caleb said, his LED blinking as he assessed it. “Let me help you.”

Gavin looked at his shoulder and back at Caleb. There was no fucking way he could do it by himself, not if he couldn’t even put on a goddamn sweatshirt unassisted. And as much as he didn’t want to accept Caleb’s help, he wanted to get out of this apartment more. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Bathroom.” Gavin pointed in the general direction. Caleb nodded and vanished down the hallway.

Gavin changed into a pair of jeans while he was gone. That, at least, he could do by himself. He fastened his belt awkwardly one-handed and clipped his badge and holster to it. Caleb was back a moment later, holding a roll of gauze and several wet paper towels. It was probably the best he could do with what Gavin had lying around—Gavin made a mental note to restock his first aid kit at some point. God knew he got beat up often enough already.

Caleb sat beside him on the bed, facing Gavin while Gavin looked straight ahead at the wall. The android’s deft fingers gently teased the end of the bandage free and unwound it from his shoulder. The staining got worse as the layers went down, dark and rusty and metallic-smelling. 

The bottom layer was stuck to the wound. Caleb daubed at the gauze with a wet paper towel, moistening the dried blood so it would come free. Gavin made a fist against his thigh. It stung like hell, no matter how gentle he was trying to be. When the bandage finally came loose, he couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of the wound. It was ugly as sin, another scar for his collection, skin still stained orange with betadine and a tangled mess of irregular black sutures. 

He sat still while Caleb cleaned the wound carefully and then wound a new strip of gauze around his shoulder, a bit more loosely than the old bandage. When he was done, Gavin rotated his shoulder experimentally and nodded. It felt much better, stuck skin no longer pulling at his stitches, the pressure of the bandage just enough to alleviate the pain without restricting his movement. It still hurt, but he could survive like this. 

“Thanks,” he said with a grateful glance at Caleb.

“Don’t mention it.” The android picked up the soiled bandages and deposited them delicately in the trash can.

Gavin bent down and picked up the thrown hoodie. It still wasn’t easy, but he managed to pull it on by himself. He felt significantly more human, even though he knew he was bound to have dark circles under his eyes and that his hair had probably dried at all sorts of odd angles from sleeping on it wet. He took a deep breath and stood up.

“What about you? How are you feeling?” He asked because he felt like he should—Caleb had taken as hard of a hit as he had last night, and he hadn’t taken much time to rest afterward. 

“I’m still low on thirium, but I can deal with that later. All the physical damage is repaired already.”

“What does that feel like for you, anyway?”

“What, blood loss?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Caleb frowned. “Not…good? If I don’t have enough thirium circulating to run all of my biocomponents, my processor prioritizes critical functions. It makes me slower, physically and mentally. If I were to lose too much, I’d shut down. Just like you.”

“What about that?” Gavin indicated the place where the bullet hole had been in Caleb’s chest last night. “I saw you cauterizing it. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, and no.” Caleb grimaced. “Deviants like myself and Connor experience something analogous to pain in humans, but I can choose to modulate it if needed. Turn it down, so to speak. The experience is still unpleasant, but much less so than it would have been for you.”

“You know, the more I’m around you, the more I realize I don’t know about androids,” Gavin admitted. 

“And I know less about you than I thought I did,” Caleb replied, averting his gaze. “I appreciate the things you said last night.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and wishing he was somewhere else. “About that, I—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Good.” Gavin abruptly realized he was starving. “We should head in to the precinct. Tina promised to force-feed me a McMuffin—”

Caleb shook his head. “Captain Fowler has placed you on medical leave. You’re no use to anyone in this state.”

“Fuck that,” Gavin snapped. “Khoury’s still in holding.”

“And you won’t be doing yourself or anyone else any good if you pass out sitting in on the interrogation.”

“I’m fine.” Gavin shrugged on his leather jacket over his hoodie and dug for his phone. “Son of a bitch, where is it…”

“Gavin,” Caleb appealed, “please don’t do this.”

“I can and I will. You can come with me or not. It’s your call.”

Gavin could practically see the calculations running behind Caleb’s eyes, computing the probability of him winning this argument. The numbers must not have been good, because after a moment he sighed, shoulders sagging, and held out Gavin’s phone. “You were sitting on it.”

“Thanks,” Gavin said with a grin. “C’mon, Nines. We got work to do.”

~~~~~~

Chris stood up from his desk upon seeing Gavin and Caleb enter the bullpen, shaking his head. “No, no no,” he said, getting up to meet them with an anxious glance toward Fowler’s office. “Gavin, you can’t be here. You gotta go home and rest.”

“Good luck convincing him of that,” Caleb responded with a significant look in Gavin’s direction. 

“Gavin,” Chris pleaded. “C’mon, man. Don’t do this.”

“Where is he?” Gavin said, pushing past him.

_“Go. Home.”_

“How about you make me, Chris?”

“Reed!” Fowler’s voice bellowed out over the bullpen. “In my office— _now.”_

“Shit,” Chris muttered under his breath. “Now you’ve done it, Gavin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gavin clapped him on the shoulder and beelined for Fowler. “Better luck next time, Chris. Good job catching the guy.”

“I…thanks.” Chris’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He went back to his desk, shaking his head in disbelief as he went.

Fowler was waiting for Gavin, leaning on his desk with his arms crossed and a vein visibly pulsating in his temple. Gavin sat down in one of the chairs opposite as Caleb slipped into the office behind him, and stared back at the Captain defiantly. 

Fowler sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have exactly three seconds to explain to me why I’m seeing your face right now when I distinctly remember placing you on medical leave.”

“This is _my case,”_ Gavin replied. “Nines and I did all the legwork. Those are _my_ crime scenes, and that’s _my_ suspect you’ve had in lockup all night—”

“And Connor and Hank are perfectly capable of carrying out an interrogation without you,” Fowler said flatly, cutting him off. 

Gavin gritted his teeth. “Look—Captain—I won’t go out on any calls. I’ll stay on desk duty for the next month if you want. But I have to see how this pans out.”

Fowler stared back at him grimly, mouth pressed into a thin line. “No way in hell is medical even going to clear you for desk duty.”

“I took a bullet over this case,” Gavin growled. “The least you can do is let me be here when—”

“No, the least I can do is suspend you for disobeying a direct order,” Fowler snapped, his voice rising in volume. “Injured or not, I’m sick and damn tired of your shitty attitude—”

The phone on Fowler’s desk buzzed, cutting off both his tirade and Gavin’s half-uttered protest. _—Captain?—_

Fowler took a deep breath and sighed it out. “What is it?”

_—You’re gonna want to get down here. Khoury just talked.—_

Gavin was already halfway out the door before Fowler could respond. There’d be hell to pay for that later. Fowler wasn’t the type to forget something like this, but right now he didn’t care. He jumped the stairs down into the bullpen, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder, and ran for the interrogation room.

The sole person in observation was Connor. Khoury sat on the other side of the glass, head in his hands, opposite Hank, who looked like he’d been at it all night. He probably had, come to think of it. Gavin felt weirdly grateful. The old man had his faults, but he could still be a damn good cop when he wanted to be. 

“Detective Reed,” Connor said, bemused, upon seeing him. “I thought you were—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Gavin shook his head. “What did he say?”

Caleb skidded into the room a moment later, hot on Gavin’s heels. “You should know that the Captain is very cross with you right now,” he said with a reproachful glance at Gavin.

Gavin snorted. “Nothing new. I’ll deal with it later.”

 _—Alright. I think we’re done here.—_ Hank’s voice crackled on the other side of the glass. He stood, leaving Khoury cuffed to the table, and exited the interrogation room. 

He walked into observation a few seconds later, stopping short upon seeing Gavin staring Connor down. “Gavin? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Working my case,” Gavin shot back over his shoulder.

“You’re not in any shape to—”

“Look who’s talking.” Gavin glared at Hank, who after a moment closed his eyes and sighed. 

Hank turned to address Caleb. “Fowler know about this?”

“Yes, and he’s not happy.”

Hank snorted. “What else is new? Alright then, fuck it. Connor?”

“You got it, Hank.” Connor’s LED cycled yellow, and their entire side of the two-way glass solidified into a screen. The recording showed the room on the other side almost exactly as it was, save that Hank was still sitting on the other side of the table from Khoury. The time stamp on the footage indicated the footage was from almost seven hours into the interview. Hank looked tired. Khoury even more so, still dressed in damp and bloodstained clothes. 

“Listen, David,” Hank’s recording said, leaning across the table. “You’re a smart guy. That much is obvious from your record, even if you keep refusing to open your mouth.”

Khoury stared resolutely at the shackles around his wrists. 

“Talked to your old buddies at CyberLife.” Hank tapped the file on the table in front of him. “They made a big mistake, kicking you to the curb. From the sound of things, you were running chemical engineering almost by yourself. Could have made yourself a big name in the industry. But they claimed all your IP when they let you go, didn’t they?”

Khoury’s eyes flicked up briefly and then back down. 

“You know what’s going to happen when they sort this shit out and get back on their feet, David?” Hank said, leaning in. “And make no mistake, they will. They’re like cockroaches. Take a damned apocalypse to wipe ‘em all out. They’ll get back up, alright, and when they do, they’re going to find your old notes and use them. They’re going to use your IP to make millions of dollars, and you won’t ever see a cent of it.” He shook his head. “They won’t credit you—not when you don’t work for them anymore. The idea belongs to them now. And no one, not a soul, is ever going to know that you were the one that put in all the work.”

Khoury made a fist, muscles flexing against the manacle. He looked as if he were struggling with himself. 

“Last chance, David,” Hank whispered, leaning across the table, practically in the guy’s face. “You want people to know your name? This is your golden fucking opportunity.”

No reaction, not even a flinch. Hank might as well have been talking to a wall. 

Hank shrugged. “Alright. Suit yourself. I’m outta here.”

He stood and made for the door. When he laid his hand on the access panel, Khoury suddenly slammed his palms down against the table. His chains clanked against the metal.

“Fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “What do you want to know?”

Hank turned slowly, watching Khoury with interest. “How about you start with the Vitriol?”

Khoury chuckled, a smug smile on his face. _“Vitriol._ A fitting name for my magnum opus. I couldn’t have picked a better one myself.” He leaned in across the table as Hank settled back into his chair. “How much do you know about alchemy, detective?”

“Turning lead into gold?” Hank snorted. “Don’t waste my time.”

“Alchemy is the process by which a substance may be transmuted into something greater than the sum of its parts,” Khoury said reverently, ignoring Hank’s derision. “I was fascinated with the old stories when I was a kid. It’s the reason I went into chemical engineering. The reason I went to work for CyberLife. I wanted to surpass the alchemists in those stories. I wanted to create something perfect.”

Hank sat back and folded his arms. “That where the blue blood comes in?”

“Not just ‘blue blood,’ as you call it,” Khoury said scornfully. “Thirium-312. An entirely new version of the compound. Pure. More efficient. It actually _reversed_ oxidant effects on biocomponents in testing. It would have given birth to an entirely new generation of androids. No one, not even Kamski, has ever come close to creating something like this—” He broke off, anger flashing across his face.

“And then they let you go,” Hank prompted.

“Yes, and then they let me go,” Khoury echoed with barely-disguised venom. “The company was falling apart. And my life’s work would have meant _nothing,_ nothing at all. So I found another use for it.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Red ice?”

“It’s no secret that Thirium is a major component. If Thirium-312 was that superior to the original compound in clinical testing, one could only imagine how much more potent it might be in drug form. The effects it might potentiate. The ones it might suppress. I ran a few tests, and the product outperformed my wildest expectations. And it was mine, and mine alone—I was the only one with the knowledge and skill to produce it. Anyone wanting to buy would have to come through me.”

“So where does Wayne Bouchard come into this?”

Khoury’s lip curled. “I needed a distributor. Someone with criminal connections. I met him through a mutual acquaintance, and he helped me set up my network. Unfortunately, he was somewhat greedier than I anticipated. He stole my equipment the second I turned my back. His plan was to set up a competing lab. Unlucky for him, I got to him before you did.” 

“That all tracks,” Hank said with a nod. “So where’s the rest of it?”

“Detective,” Khoury said with a cold smile, “if you think I’m going to tell you that, you’re even stupider than you look.”

The recording stopped, and the screen went blank. Hank sighed heavily, looking run-down. “That’s all I could get out of him.”

“That’s damn near everything,” Fowler’s voice said from behind them. Gavin turned around to see the Captain standing in the doorway, somehow managing to look pissed and pleased at the same time. “This is a huge break for the task force. You all did good.” He glanced at Gavin. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So now what?” Caleb asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. 

Hank collapsed into a swivel chair and rubbed his eyes. “Now, I want to get some shuteye. We can follow up on the leads we got later—chase down his acquaintances, other people who got laid off from CyberLife R&D, old buddies of Bouchard’s, anyone that might be connected. Eventually someone’ll crack. That’s how we ended it last time.”

Caleb nodded. “I’ll start compiling a list of—” 

His LED flashed yellow, and he broke off abruptly. Connor’s strobed in sync with Caleb’s, his eyelids fluttering rapidly. When they cycled back to blue, both androids looked at each other with muted horror.

“What?” Gavin demanded. “What the hell was that?”

“A large sum was just deposited into Khoury’s bank account,” Connor said flatly. “Fifteen million dollars.”

 _“Fifteen—”_ Hank swore, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That’s got to be payment for the rest of his supply,” Fowler said grimly. “I don’t know how the hell he managed to contact someone on the outside, but we’re about to have a crisis on our hands if we don’t seize the shit before it gets to the buyer.”

Gavin swallowed. Looked around the room at the rest of them—damaged, wounded, sleep-deprived. On the other side of the glass, Khoury smiled.

They were out of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah. It's all coming together.
> 
> Two more chapters to go!


End file.
